


The Point

by VeryShyViolet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Campfires, Camping, John Watson - Freeform, Oneshot, Sherlock - Freeform, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:58:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1791316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryShyViolet/pseuds/VeryShyViolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson decides it's best for him and his consulting detective to take a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Point

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this oneshot maybe a year ago on a whim, so I don't expect great things from it.

Sherlock Holmes was not happy with where he was, not at all. He was defiantly quiet. The silent treatment, he remembered it was called. He'd learnt the power of it from observing John's reactions to his many girlfriends' silent treatments. However, he didn't seem to be able to work it himself on John.

Holding onto his long coat in a tight, equally defiant fashion, wrapping it about himself protectively, Sherlock let disdainful sighs and muttered derisive observations about his surroundings occasionally fill the night air.

Two cellulars lay confiscated in a dark jacket flung over a picnic table about 15 feet away from the detective and his blogger. The more expensive of the two mobiles, the one without scratch marks around the battery outlet, vibrated occasionally. The barely audible sound made Sherlock grit his teeth each time he heard it. The true ambience was the occasional pop or crackle of the bonfire built in the middle of the clearing deep in the wood or the animals rustling around out of sight. There was no conversation. It was annoying. Simply hateful.

John merely rolled his eyes at the expressions Sherlock made, and slid a marshmallow over a metal roasting rod. He was feeling at peace now that the mess of dragging Sherlock out here was over. A particular incident involving being held at gunpoint while an American policeman forced a certain dominatrix to divulge certain secrets was the tipping point for John. He promptly decided both he and Sherlock needed a break from the constant adrenaline rush on their cases.

Sherlock hadn't gone without a fight, however. It was bad enough suggesting they get out of town; organising a trip away from civilization was a proper nightmare. And finally there was the griping, insults, and then pleading and finally a sulking as John strived to remove all electronic devices.

They'd been only been out here since about four in the afternoon. They, or rather, John, had set up camp in an hour and it was now... six o' clock. John held his marshmallow over the fire, turning his stick idly. The two men were sat on worn logs. The forced silence dragged, only lengthening.

It wasn't long before Sherlock broke, flinging his arms out at everything in complete frustration. 

"What is the point of this!?" he snarled, scaring a few unsuspecting birds out of their nearby perches.


End file.
